


When You're Out Of Faith (i'll give you some of mine)

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Confrontations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Felicity Smoak Being An Awesome Friend, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, Oliver Queen Has PTSD, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Season 1, Set early Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6787930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Oliver experiences a panic attack post being confronted by his family and friends about his instinctive actions at an attacked QC gala, Felicity is the one to offer him support and advice, and finally get through to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You're Out Of Faith (i'll give you some of mine)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CheerUpLovely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerUpLovely/gifts).



> Title from the song "I'll Be The Light" by Colton Dixon.
> 
> This was written from 10pm to 2am, so not sure how good it'll be.
> 
> Taken from an Anon prompt on my Tumblr page: _"a oneshot exploring (Oliver's mental issues) where the Queen family are attacked and oliver's instincts take over for him to fight them and then flee to recuperate like he did on the island, and then nobody understands why he did what he did except felicity."_

* * *

Oliver’s hyper vigilance had been acting up even before his family had been attacked by masked gunmen at a Queen Consolidated gala. Horrific night terrors recalling torture and vicious assaults had caused the archer to be constantly aware and alert of any possible threats for days, startling and flinching at the simplest of noises like cars backfiring and objects being dropped to the floor. He was already hyped up and jittery at the gala anyway due to the large crowd - when the masked intruders burst in, brandishing weapons and barking demands aggressively, he reacted.

His instincts, developed on the island, in Hong Kong and in Russia with his own self preservation in mind, took over. Oliver ‘Ollie’ Queen, rescued castaway billionaire playboy vanished, and the survivor, the fighter, the killer, the _animal_ inside of him assumed control of his body.

The rational part of his mind reminding him that he couldn’t use too advanced fight moves at the risk of exposing himself as the Hood, Oliver responded to one of the masked men shoving the muzzle of a Glock in his mother’s face by punching the guy in the face. Barely acknowledging Moira’s cry of shock, Oliver delivered a sharp kick to the man’s side and scrambled to pick up his gun, before turning to see the other three remaining masked men approaching. They were raising their guns to shoot at him, but Oliver was quicker. With a few precise moves, kicks and punches, making sure he didn’t show off _too_ much, pure instinct guiding him and all logic suppressed, the archer put two of them down, unconscious.

He took two seconds to observe his surroundings. Most of the civilians who had turned up for the gala were pressed against the walls of the hall; Oliver caught sight of Walter, Thea, Laurel, Tommy and Moira huddled together in fear, with Quentin standing in front of them with his hands up, having been confronted and stripped of his gun and radio the moment the men had realised he was a police detective. All the security guards, including Diggle, were knocked out on the floor. The last armed attacker in the room, who had been yelling at everybody to take off their jewellery and hand over any money, tried to rush Oliver, firing blindly at him. Instinct took over once again. The archer ran from the hall into the lobby, where he proceeded to take on the attacker in hand to hand, having disarmed him of his gun swiftly. The guy was down within a minute.

Police sirens sounded in the distance. Oliver’s head snapped up, his eyes wild and body tensed like a lion preparing for a battle. The compulsion to _run,_ to _escape_ from the confrontation he knew was approaching was too powerful, overwhelming the common sense telling him to return to his family and friends. Allowing that compulsion to drive his muscles and move him however it wished, Oliver retreated into his mind in an attempt to mentally rest.

When his instincts finally settled and Oliver came back into full control of his mind and body, he blinked confusedly and took shallow breaths. He was lying on the lumpy medical cot in the Foundry, but he had no idea how much time had passed since the attack. The sight and sound of the masked gunmen and their anger had triggered that deep primal fear in him that he hadn’t properly experienced since the island, and now that fear was gone, due to knowing he was in a safe space and there was no danger. The archer was left in a state of mental shock, his hands trembling and mind stunted. The memories of what had happened were blurry, like he was looking at them through an unfocused telescope. He could vaguely recall his mother’s surprised noise at him beating one of the attackers and seeing his family and friends against a wall.

 _His family. His friends._ Oliver checked his watch. Shit. He had been gone for almost three hours. They were probably worried sick. The archer had been stuck in an instinctual, half-feral state for so long that he hadn’t even contacted them to tell them that he was okay. The last time his family and friends had seen him was running out of a hall after taking down armed assailants with one chasing him.

Hoping that Diggle would at least have some sense to reassure his loved ones that Oliver could take care of himself and was most likely completely fine, the archer grabbed his cell phone and quickly crafted a text to his bodyguard/partner/black driver to inform him he was heading back to the Queen mansion. Diggle texted back within half a minute, telling him that his family and friends were all gathered there anyway, with Quentin taking statements from them, and that they were all not very happy and extremely anxious that he had taken off unexpectedly.

 _I’m a jerk,_ Oliver thought angrily as he kicked his Ducati into gear and began speeding through the streets of Starling towards the location of his home. _I’m a damaged jerk, sure, but I’m still a jerk. Laurel was right, I’m a selfish bastard. My family and friends were in danger and the only thing I could think about was the fact that I was being threatened and needed to take those guys out before getting to safety. I abandoned them when they needed me the most. If they didn’t hate me before, they’ll hate me now. I wouldn’t blame them if they did._

“Oliver,” Moira gasped, as he let himself in, head ducked and eyes warily moving over the group that was gathered anxiously in the living room, some of them pacing back and forth. His mother rushed to him and immediately threw her arms around him in an embrace. Forcing himself not to flinch, Oliver accepted it briefly before becoming uncomfortable and pulling away. Seeing the apprehension on his face, his mother sobbed. “Oh, my sweet boy.”

“Is everybody alright?” he asked quietly.

“We’re fine,” Thea replied. “None of us got hurt.” Fury sparked in her eyes as she strode forwards, arms crossed tightly across her chest. “Which you would know if you had stayed and actually _talked_ to us instead of running away.”

Walter swallowed, reaching for his step-daughter’s sleeve to protest weakly, “Thea…”

“No, Thea’s right,” Laurel cut in sharply, her father gazing suspiciously at Oliver from her side. “Once again, Oliver was selfish and cared more about himself than his family and friends, and left us without even knowing if we were safe. Without even letting us know that he was safe. Not to mention the fact that he seems to have magically gained armed and hand-to-hand combat skills.”

“Just like the Hood,” Quentin snidely put in.

“Oh, don’t start, Detective,” Moira snarled at him.

“You saw the way he took those guys down!” Quentin threw back.

“Yes, I also saw that he did it with punches and kicks that any decent in-shape man who works out and trains every week would be able to do!”

“That’s enough, you two,” Walter interrupted crossly. “We aren’t here to discuss Oliver’s fighting skills, which whilst are admirable, are not exactly on the same level as the vigilante’s. We’re here to discuss the aftermath of today’s attack.”

“Where’d you even run off to, Oliver?” Tommy asked, stepping forwards and putting his hand on his friend’s elbow, making the archer freeze. “That guy with the gun ran after you - you could have been hurt! You could have been dying, one of us could have been dying, and you just - upped and left after you wiped out a group of bad guys like a freaking ninja!”

Oliver could feel his back stiffening. His family and friends were beginning to surround him, kicking his hyper vigilance and claustrophobia into action, making him feel on edge. Diggle was the only one to notice his discomfort, but he didn’t speak up, obviously feeling that it wasn’t his place to intercede.

“It was irresponsible, Oliver,” Moira said, her tone becoming stern. Oh, so now his mother was joining in to mercilessly slate him too. “It was immature, thoughtless and yes, like Laurel said, selfish. _Anything_ could have happened, and you didn’t think -”

“Stop,” he whispered.

“Excuse me?” Moira’s voice dropped warningly.

Oliver couldn’t take it anymore. He was surrounded from all sides and he wanted to run again, except he couldn’t, because he knew that if he ran from this confrontation, he would have to face another, fiercer than the one he was currently facing. But their words, their pressing in on him with their disdain and disapproval, it was suffocating him, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. And he actually couldn’t - his inhales were shaky, his exhales stuttered, the tightness in his chest combined with the rigidness of his form and the trembling of his hands forcing his body into an overload. And with them all assembled in a confining ring around him like a pack of wolves encircling prey, Oliver’s mind was going into overdrive trying to process all the threats.

“I - I can’t -” He didn’t know what to do. His bow was at the Foundry, he had nothing to defend himself with except his personal combat skills and he really didn’t want to have to hurt his loved ones, but he _needed_ to get out. He needed fresh air, he needed space to breathe and think.

Diggle finally appeared to realise that his charge was on the verge of a mental breakdown and decided to step in. “Everybody step back,” he ordered, quickly dragging Tommy and Laurel away from him before proceeding to try and pull back Thea. “He’s having a panic attack.”

“A panic attack?” Thea huffed unimpressedly, violently shrugging Diggle’s hand off with a sneer. “He pretty much caused all of _us_ to have panic attacks when he vanished, he has _nothing_ to panic about!”

To everybody’s surprise, the Briton in the room snapped, “Thea!”

“Oh come on, you have to be thinking it too, Walter!” the younger Queen sibling snarked.

“Thea, now is _not_ the time,” her step-father warned, shooting an incredibly anxious look towards his other step-child.

Feeling like he was struggling to get oxygen and as if he was crammed into a small inescapable space, Oliver curled his hands into fists and sort of half-bowed at the waist, closing his eyes and trying to focus on anything but the people around him and what emotions they were instigating. He wanted to run. He needed to get out. But running away again would only make things worse.

“Oliver, where are you at right now?” Diggle questioned him in a low voice, trying to sound as non-threatening and helpful as possible. Grimacing at the question, the archer didn’t answer, just trying to concentrate on getting air in and out of his lungs so that hopefully the tightness that had built up in his chest would loosen. “Oliver, look at me.” He did, with some difficulty. His bodyguard had one hand held out to stop his concerned-looking mother and the other was held out towards him placatingly. “Look around you, man. Take in the surroundings. Where are you, Oliver?”

“Dig,” the archer rasped, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oliver, where are you?” his bodyguard insisted.

He glanced around. Physically, he knew that he was in the Queen mansion but mentally - all of the fear and agitation and distress he was experiencing, as well as that feeling of being trapped and enclosed, made him think of the island, Hong Kong and Russia. Made him think he was in danger. His instincts screaming at him that he was on Lian Yu were clashing viciously with logic informing him he was in Starling City. “I - I don’t know.”

There were murmurs of shock and distress at this, making Oliver feel even more uneasy and he warily straightened, tensing to prepare for the oncoming onslaught his body was expecting.

“You’re not on the island, Oliver,” Diggle informed him firmly.

“I’m not?” he asked, just to make sure.

But the clarifying question just made things worse, causing his mother to let out a sob, clutching to Walter’s shirt whilst Laurel did the same to Tommy. Quentin muttered, “ _Shit_ ,” under his breath and reached out to attempt to stop Thea from running forwards, because she looked like she was about to cry. But he wasn’t able to grab hold of her in time; Thea rushed forwards and moved as if she was going to embrace him, making Oliver tense like a live wire and a tremor to shimmer down his spine.

It was his sister’s hand on the archer’s arm that broke him. Making a strangled sound, Oliver fled, carelessly shoving past Quentin, who had been staring in confused shock, and Walter and Moira, both who called out his name in alarm.

Oliver strode past his Ducati, which was still parked out front, surging forwards towards the gates as if he had sharks snapping at his heels. He needed air, he needed space, and most of all, he needed control. He knew that a brisk walk, that would transform into a run, would clear his head of dizziness and unwind the coil in his chest. So, quickly exiting the Queen mansion grounds, he kept going, breaking into a sprint.

He was unsure of how long he had ran for, or where exactly he had travelled to, but he had an excuse, at least. His head wasn’t exactly in the best of places, and the need to keep moving had exceeded that of the need to navigate correctly. Oliver stopped and swallowed only when the compulsion to run had disappeared, silently relieved that he no longer felt like he was having a panic attack.

“Mr Queen?”

 _Felicity Smoak_ , his mind provided him, immediately matching the voice to a name without even having to look at her. Turning quietly, his tired blue gaze met her bright cerulean one, which dimmed into one of concern when she saw his face. Oliver reckoned that he would look exhausted. He had only been getting an hour of sleep a night, sometimes less, due to his nightmares, and the assault at the gala and following panic attack had left him feeling utterly drained of energy.

“Sorry - Oliver,” the blonde IT girl swiftly corrected, probably thinking that him not responding was because she had hadn’t called him by his first name. She was standing beside her car, a Mini Cooper, and she looked so out of place that it was almost funny. It was only then that the archer realised where he was - in the Glades. “Um. Hi. Are… are you okay?”

He nodded silently.

“Alright, because I don’t want to be rude but… your hands are shaking.”

They were, but that was just from the excess adrenalin still pumping through veins because of his retained, although incorrect, perception of threats and danger. “It’s the cold,” he lied. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, so it was a suitable excuse. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. That’s great. You’re cold. Right.” She wrung her hands. “I was just wondering… why you’re walking around in the Glades at nearly one am?” She paused before adding hurriedly, “Not that - I don’t want to pry or anything. You probably have a really good reason for being in the Glades at one am. And who am I to stop you? I’m just an IT girl and you’re… well, you’re _you._ With your money and big muscles.” Felicity squeezed her eyes shut. “Mentally noting to myself to never let myself to talk to people at one am when I’m only running on three hours of sleep ever again.”

Without even thinking, Oliver let out a breathy laugh, a smile pulling at his lips. “Felicity…”

She groaned adorably, only making the archer smile more. “Sorry. I should have just had my voice box cut out when I was a kid, it would have made life so much easier. But, um, my previous question still stands.”

Right. Why he was walking in the Glades at one in the morning. “I needed some air,” he told her truthfully. “You?” 

“Driving home, actually,” she answered, shifting on her feet and flicking her hair behind her ear - because it was down, out of its pony-tail and Oliver had to admit that it looked… nice. It suited her. He didn’t know whether or not those few blonde curls were natural or not, but she looked good like that. “There’s a twenty four hour store down the street and I was just stocking up on… you don’t need to know. Stuff for women’s… stuff. If you know what I mean.” She laughed nervously then winced.

“I do know what you mean,” he replied. It was remarkable, really, how relaxed he felt around Felicity when only a short period of time ago, he had been wanting to crawl out of his own skin into a hole in the ground. And the blonde wasn’t registering as a threat at all, unlike all of his family and friends. “I’ve had to run to the store for supplies for Mom and Thea countless times. Although usually not at one am.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow. “Oh, trust me, mister, if you were a woman, you would understand the occasional need for store-stops at crazy times in the morning.” There was a beat of comfortable silence between them before Felicity offered, “Need a ride?”

“To where?” he questioned.

“Anywhere,” she responded with a shrug. “Open offer.”

He hesitated. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Then we won’t go home,” she answered gently, before freezing and groaning again. “I meant, your home. We won’t go to _your_ home. Because your home and my home are two vastly different places, your home being a massive mansions with acres of grounds and probably suits of armour in the hallways, my home being… my bed, couch, super-fast awesome Wi-Fi and ice-cream freezer shelf.”

He laughed again. God, she was incredible. “Sounds like a good home,” he told her.

“Hmm,” she smiled. “Yeah, it is.” Another beat, and then she tapped the roof of the Mini. “So… is that a yes on the ride? Car ride. Not… any other type of ride. You know what, I’m just going to shut up.”

“That’s a yes on the car ride,” Oliver confirmed, amused.

She motioned to the passenger side. Clambering into the shotgun seat, (and immediately realising he was vastly too big for a car this size, his legs cramped and head slightly ducked to avoid it hitting the car’s roof) Oliver just watched Felicity silently as she put the car into drive and pulled back out onto the road. She hummed quietly as she drove, not seeming all that bothered by his staring, but obviously aware of it, as she glanced over and met his eyes once or twice before quickly breaking eye contact and returning her gaze to the asphalt.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Felicity said, shattering the silence between them, “And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I really don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything… why’d you need the air?”

Oliver breathed out heavily, debating whether or not to tell her. Figuring that it wouldn’t do any harm, and that Felicity was probably the last person on earth who would judge him (she was too kind for that), he prompted, “You hear about the QC gala attack?”

“You were there? Are you okay? Are your family? Did anybody get hurt?” Felicity questioned instantly, her worry evident in her voice as her hands tightened around the steering wheel.

“I’m fine,” he replied, feeling oddly touched. She was worried about him and his family, despite the fact that they had only first met not long ago and only had held a few conversations with each other. “My family too.”

“You want to talk about it?” Felicity asked hesitantly. “No judgement, I promise. I’ll just listen. Or if you want an opinion or something, I can offer that, but only if you want it.”

Oliver didn’t reply to that, and let the silence sit between them. But after a moment, he realised - he needed to get this off his chest. He couldn’t tell any of his family or friends, because they still viewed him as pre-island ‘Ollie’, and telling Diggle would just ruin their relationship in a professional capacity. The archer was well aware that the ex-soldier suspected he had PTSD, and what was awful was that he couldn’t find it within himself to disagree with his bodyguard. He knew that he had mental issues. He knew that flinching at every small sound, feeling like he was constantly being watched and in danger, and occasionally having days where he felt like he needed to work out until he passed out to punish himself, was not in any way normal nor healthy. He refused to see a psychotherapist, but deep down he recognised that he needed to speak to somebody.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to,” Felicity reassured quietly. He had remained silent for several minutes, and she was now under the impression, he presumed, that he was reluctant to talk to her. “It was just a suggestion.”

“No, I want to,” he said. “It’s, um, as cliché as this sounds, it’s not you, it’s me. I don’t usually enjoy… talking about myself. Especially about my feelings. Or… or about what happened -” He cut himself off, his throat suddenly feeling too thick to continue.

But Felicity was on the nose, like she always was, picking up the end of his sentence to say quietly, “About what happened on the island?”

Oliver blew out gently, the stone in his chest feeling immediately a lot lighter. “Yeah. The island. My family and friends, they’re always wanting to know what happened… during those five years.” He shook his head. “They pointed out I’ve been distant since I’ve been back and I feel like I owe them an explanation.”

Felicity looked at him sharply. “Oliver, you don’t owe them anything. If you’re not ready to talk about it, then you’re not. They can’t force you to. And of course you’ve been distant since you’ve been back – you were on an island by yourself, you’re going to have difficulty integrating yourself back into society and socialising when all the socialisation you’ve done for five years is, I don’t know, talking to fish and coconuts. Point is, don’t feel like you have to talk about it if you don’t feel comfortable.”

He was surprised by her words, even more so seeing as she was exactly right. A weight Oliver didn’t know was pressing on his shoulders lifted. Thrilled by this development, he opened himself up a little more the blonde, delighted that he finally had somebody to speak to this about in a vague manner that wouldn’t bother them. “Thanks. It’s just, sometimes I can’t believe that it’s… real. That I’m back here in Starling. That I’m not… there. And I think talking about it in detail would do more harm than good.”

“It’s all too fresh on your mind,” Felicity nodded. “And you need time to process everything so you can compartmentalise and look at what you struggled through objectively.”

He chuckled softly, turning to fleetingly meet her gaze, as they had both swivelled their heads around at the same time to glance at each other. But instead of breaking eye contact, Oliver maintained it, staring into her shining blue eyes with such understanding and intelligence in them. “You’re really good at this.”

Felicity shrugged modestly, giving a small smile before she turned back to the road just as the red light they had temporality stopped up lit green. “I’ve had a little experience in the matter myself, the whole ‘bad memories, trying to sort them and stop them making you so emotionally vulnerable’ thing. Although obviously my bad memories aren’t as bad as yours,” she added quickly. “I don’t think anything could really beat being stranded on a deserted island by yourself for a period of time longer than you have to spend in high school ed.” Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, did I overstep?”

“No,” he shook his head. He paused, giving himself time to gather some courage before he began. “When I was on the island, I, um… I had to train myself to do things to keep myself alive. And after time, those things… became like instincts to me. Even now, they still are. So when I’m in a crisis or there’s danger, those instincts just take over and I don’t think at all, I…”

“You do as your instincts tell you to,” Felicity provided helpfully. “Because that’s how you survived on the island, so that’s how your body tells you you’ll survive here.”

“Right,” Oliver swallowed. “And because I’m back in civilisation now, those instincts born from the wild are weird and strange to people. They don’t understand them. So they don’t… _like_ them. Not - not -” It took him a few seconds to admit it, because it hurt, to accept it and say it out loud. “Not even my family and friends.”

“What happened with your instincts, in response to the gala attack, was it bad?”

“Kind of? I didn’t think it was, but to an observer it might have looked… violent.”

“Did you punch a few people?” Felicity chuckled weakly, trying for humour.

Not laughing, Oliver replied, “I beat them all up and knocked them unconscious, Felicity.”

She didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. “Well, you saved all the civilians, so even if your methods were a little aggressive, your results were good. Kind of like the vigilante. Not - not that I was accusing you of being the vigilante, I would never do that.” The blonde muttered to herself under her breath, “Isn’t this night just going _fantastically_ , I just accused Oliver Queen of being a bow-wielding, arrow-shooting hooded crusader who targets the Starling criminal elite when he’s probably friends with some of those targets.”

Oliver noted down in his head under ‘Reasons Why Felicity Would Make A Good Vigilante Partner’ that the blonde always took care to never actually insult the vigilante aloud. “Not like the vigilante,” he told her with a thin smile.

“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say that last sentence about the vigilante, and that I just said that bit about your slightly violent acts getting a good outcome. Please.”

Oliver hummed thoughtfully, his thumb rubbing against the forefinger of one hand whilst the other fiddled with the nobs on the car’s air conditioning and heating system, keeping himself occupied. “I guess the results were good. But then I ran away for three hours and my family and friends got really angry, so when I came back they shouted at me.” 

“You ran away because you thought there was danger?”

“No… not danger. A confrontation. I don’t like the idea of being surrounded and confronted.”

“And your instincts from the island told you that was bad, so you ran,” Felicity said, sounding remarkably calm.

“You’re acting very blasé about this,” he said curiously.

“It makes sense,” Felicity answered. “To me, it does, anyway. And your family and friends didn’t understand that?”

“To be fair, I didn’t exactly stick around when they confronted me about it to explain,” the archer admitted, looking down at his hands.

The blonde frowned. “Well, it was a confrontation. If they came off as hostile, there’s no wonder you ran. That’s why you were walking in the Glades? Because you ran from your family and friends?”

“And I needed some space and air to think,” he finished. 

“Wow. You ran a long way,” Felicity commented. “About five miles.”

“It didn’t feel that long.” 

“Ah, right, adrenalin.” 

The conversation naturally lulled, coming to an end. A warm feeling came over him. He felt much lighter than he had before, now he had got his worried voiced out loud to a neutral third party and it was off his shoulders. “Thank you for listening, Felicity.”

“Anytime,” she reassured him with a bright smile. “Do you want my advice, or…?”

He shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“Okay. I think that you should go back home to your family and friends, get them to sit down whilst you stand and then explain to them about your instincts, just like you did to me. That way they can understand why you did what you did and how you might react to similar situations in the future.”

Oliver’s heart sunk. He was afraid she’d say something like that. “I don’t think that’ll work quite as easily as you expect it to, Felicity.”

“No, it’ll work,” the blonde replied in a firm, sure voice. She slowed the car to a stop. “Okay, don’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” he asked suspiciously, turning to her with narrowed blue eyes.

She shot him a sheepish look, flicking her loose hair behind her ear again. “We’re at the entrance to the Queen mansion drive.”

His head shot around and he gazed outside the window to find that - yes, they were parked on the side of the road only a metre or so away from the gates to the beginning of the entrance driveway up to his family’s house. Oliver sighed. “Felicity…”

“You can completely ignore my advice,” she told him, “And I’ll drive you to a hotel or something. Or -” Her voice softened. “You can take my advice and talk to your family and friends, sort things out and put this entire thing behind you.” A grin broke out on her face as she quipped cheerfully, “‘You gotta put your past behind ya.’”

“Hakuna Matata,” Oliver deadpanned back to her in response, holding back his smile at her delighted noise that he knew the pop culture reference. Heaving another sigh, he opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride, Felicity.”

She beamed back at him, happy he was listening to her and going to communicate with his loved ones. “The car ride,” she corrected, “Not the other type of ride. Which I didn’t need to bring up. But I did, because I don’t seem to have any sort of filter whatsoever. Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “But once again, anytime.”

“Goodnight, Felicity,” he told her, making sure his gratitude could be heard in his voice, closing the door but bending down to properly smile at her through the open window. “Thank you for… for everything.”

She gave him a little wave, smiling back at him so genuinely, with such compassion, warmth and sensitivity that he felt touched, so deeply moved by Felicity’s actions to support and help him when he was essentially a stranger to her. He had been feeling so utterly awful and depressed but she had managed to lift his emotions, so much so that he had laughed with her, and was now able to smile again.

“See you soon, Oliver,” the blonde said lightly.

He ducked his head, grinning, before he glanced back up and questioned, “You will?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded with a smirk. “It won’t be long until you strut into my office cubicle again needing technological help. I can tell.”

“‘Strut’?”

“Like a powerful big cat,” Felicity nodded. “Or maybe a peacock.”

“A peacock?” the archer repeated, amused.

“Uh huh,” she agreed, winking.

“Well, then I suppose I will see you soon,” Oliver accepted. “After all, I’d be useless without my personal IT consultant.”

“Personal internet researcher,” Felicity corrected. “But you were close. Goodnight, Oliver. I hope things go well with your family and friends.”

He nodded and stood back. The blonde IT girl wound up the window before she drove off in her Mini, leaving Oliver outside the Queen mansion gates at the entrance to the driveway by himself, standing in the frigid night air. The archer stood there for a few minutes, staring at the road where Felicity’s car had vanished around the corner out of sight, before he blinked, snapping out of his mind and turning towards his home.

Felicity was right - he needed to talk to his family, explain what was going on and what had happened with his instincts during the attack. That was the only way he was going to be able to properly re-connect with his loved ones. _Felicity was always right_ , he mused. _And she always managed to get through to him._

Vaulting over the gate with expert skill, Oliver strode in the darkness down the road, spotting the lights of his home through the trees in the distance.

Time to face the sharks.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos and comment below :) I take prompts on my Tumblr page!
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar


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